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By:

C.S. Krishnamurthy

21 June 2025 at 2:15:51 pm

Ekta Bhyan, Quiet Gold

The strongest lessons in life rarely arrive with drumbeats. They come quietly, sit beside us, and stay long after the applause fades. I learnt this at the recent Peakst8 Festival in the world-class Padukone-Dravid Centre for Sports Excellence Bengaluru. The venue was full of ambition, energy, loud confidence and polished success stories. Yet, it was gold-winning para-athlete Ekta Bhyan who held my attention, not by raising her voice, but by lowering the noise around her. She was an integral...

Ekta Bhyan, Quiet Gold

The strongest lessons in life rarely arrive with drumbeats. They come quietly, sit beside us, and stay long after the applause fades. I learnt this at the recent Peakst8 Festival in the world-class Padukone-Dravid Centre for Sports Excellence Bengaluru. The venue was full of ambition, energy, loud confidence and polished success stories. Yet, it was gold-winning para-athlete Ekta Bhyan who held my attention, not by raising her voice, but by lowering the noise around her. She was an integral part of a panel discussing what it takes to reach the Olympics. Others spoke of pressure, fame and sacrifice. Ekta spoke of routine. Of turning up. Of patience. There were no heroic flourishes in her words. Each sentence was measured, calm and grounded. Listening to her, I sensed a deep reserve of experience. She was not trying to impress. She was simply explaining how life had unfolded. A spinal injury, in 2003, had left her paralysed. This is usually where stories pause for sympathy. Ekta’s does not. She spoke of rebuilding, not rebelling. Of learning what the body could still do, and then working patiently within those limits. Para sport entered her life quietly, not as rescue, but as direction. Over time, she found her space in the F51 club throw, a demanding discipline where balance, precision and control matter more than force. What stayed with me was her restraint. She mentioned podium finishes only in passing. International meets, Asian Para Games, world championships, all appeared briefly and then moved aside. Even the gold medal she had earned was referred to almost casually, as one would mention a milestone on a long road. For her, medals are not destinations. They are confirmations. Steely Discipline Ekta spoke about training. It is not exciting, she said. It repeats itself. Progress hides. Muscles resist. The mind looks for shortcuts. Yet commitment must remain steady. She described days when success meant completing a session without excuses. On some mornings, it was finishing gym work despite fatigue. Evenings meant outdoor practice, carefully timed because regulating body temperature is a constant challenge after spinal injury. For nearly three years, she has not missed a single day of training. With limited muscle use and only about forty per cent lung capacity, each session needs careful planning. Her shoulders are her strongest allies. Other muscles cooperate less. Fingers offer no strength at all. Still, she works with what she has. Over the last four years, this discipline has translated into results. Gold medals at national championships. A bronze at the Asian Para Games. Gold and bronze at the World Championships in Paris in 2023. This season alone, she added gold at the Indian Open Paralympic Championships and a silver soon after. Her personal best stands at 21.5 metres, and she speaks of improving it, not defending it. There was a gentler revelation too. As a young girl, Ekta had once dreamt of becoming a doctor. She wanted to heal. Life rewrote the syllabus. Yet, listening to her, I realised she still heals. Not with medicine, but with example. Her journey treats assumptions and restores belief, quietly and effectively. Human Moment After the session, when the crowd thinned, I walked up to her with my notebook. I asked for her autograph, expecting a quick signature. She paused, asked my name, and wrote hers carefully. That small act reflected everything she had spoken about. Presence. Respect. Attention. Her daily life, she earlier shared, is not simple. She needs two people to help with routine movements, from transferring to travel. Public transport is impossible. Every trip requires planning, space and expense. Often, she bears the cost for three people, not one. Yet, she spoke of this without complaint. The harder challenge, she said, is mindset. People with disabilities are still seen as separate from the mainstream. Expectations are lowered, often disguised as kindness. Ekta resists this quietly. Her competition is internal. Yesterday versus today. Comfort versus effort. Paralysis, she believes, is a condition, not an identity. As I left the venue, the applause felt inadequate. Not because it was soft, but because her journey asks for reflection, not noise. Ekta Bhyan reminds us that ambition can change shape without losing meaning. That success does not always announce itself. Sometimes, it arrives quietly, balanced and consistent. Her strength lies not only in the distance she throws, but in the steadiness she maintains. And in that quiet balance, Ekta Bhyan offers us something rare. A lesson that stays long after the hall has emptied.   (The writer is a retired banker and author of ‘Money Does Matter.’)

One Man’s Vision, One Village’s Transformation

Chandrakant Dalvi didn’t leave Nidhal behind—he returned with a vision and turned a drought-prone village into a model of modern rural development.


Imagine standing in a drought-prone field, the ground cracked and dry under the harsh sun. Women pass by, balancing pots of water on their heads. Roads are poor, the local school is crumbling, and mud houses stretch along a barren landscape with barely a patch of green. You wouldn’t want to stay there, nor did Chandrakant Dalvi.


But this remarkable man didn’t turn his back on the harsh reality of his birthplace—Nidhal village in Khatav Taluka, Satara, Maharashtra. A boy who studied in the village school went on to pursue higher education and returned as an IAS officer. His journey and achievements are well-documented online, so I won’t repeat that. Instead, I hope to capture him in words that go beyond his career and title.


A man so deeply rooted in his land that, for over four decades, he has worked for the development of a place most wouldn’t even wish to imagine standing in. And this seed of change wasn’t sown after he earned a prestigious post. It began during his MSc (Agriculture) in 1980–81, when a young man with a spark in his eye started researching Nidhal. The rest, as they say, is history.


Often, those who leave their hometowns rarely return. But Dalvi is a clear exception; he left to come back, driven by a spirit of transformation. I’ve never met him, and perhaps never will. But I met him through the book Nidhal: Gramvikasacha Dalvi Pattern by Sunil Chavan.


I’ve had the privilege of knowing the author, Chavan, since childhood. Straight-talking yet compassionate, and deeply rooted in agricultural and rural life—who better to bring this book to life?


An actor by profession and a philanthropist by passion, Nana Patekar has worked tirelessly for sustainable water solutions through the NAAM Foundation. In the book’s foreword, he recalls being given a write-up on Nidhal but chose to visit first, reflecting his genuine commitment. He also believes the story deserves a place in the curriculum for its power to inspire rural development across India.


More than a book, this thoughtfully crafted volume serves as a handbook for anyone interested in rural development—those who’ve left their villages, social workers, gram panchayat members, or villagers aiming to uplift their communities.


As for that ‘new height’—remember the drought-prone land we imagined? It’s now a transformed village with modern infrastructure: water supply schemes, connecting roads, healthcare services, multi-purpose gardens, and more.


Dalvi’s MSc research laid the foundation for the initiative. He found that around 750 people had migrated to cities like Mumbai and Pune. In 1983, under his leadership, an association was formed, and all 750 were invited to celebrate Diwali in Nidhal—over 400 attended.


At this gathering, it was decided that migrants would contribute Rs 101 annually, and each village household Rs 51, until the high school was built. This continued for nearly 10 years, resulting in a beautiful school.


Dalvi has been devoted to holistic rural development. In his retirement year, 2018, he founded the SATV Foundation (Strategic Alliance for Transforming Villages). Inspired by the Nidhal model, SATV now works in 15 villages. Nana Patekar has said NAAM and SATV will soon collaborate for greater impact.


As mentioned, Dalvi is an exception. A driven young man who earned a prestigious government post, he worked tirelessly for village development from day one, through retirement, and beyond, collaborating with villagers, professionals, and businesspeople. His dedication is truly rare and inspiring.


Mumbaikars may know the Mahalaxmi Saras Exhibition, the vibrant event showcasing exquisite handicrafts, antiques, and authentic regional food. Among many stalls, 65 women from Nidhal stand out, winning awards. Next time you visit Saras, be sure to find Nidhal’s stall.


This remarkable village has earned prestigious titles and government honours, including the SAARC Village Award, ECO Village recognition, the National Water Award, and the Nirmal Gram Puraskar. IIM Kolkata students have researched its transformation, and a student group from IIT Bombay held a camp in Nidhal to study its progress.


This remarkable journey from a neglected village to a modern one wasn’t overnight. Over 41 years, Mr. Dalvi and his supporters faced hardships and setbacks with determination and resilience.


Now their success is what I truly call a ‘new height’!


At this point, I should probably stop myself from giving away too many spoilers.


After reading the book and researching Nidhal and Dalvi, I believe no development is possible without consistent, united effort and a visionary leader like him to guide the way.


And I can’t thank Chavan enough for capturing and presenting this entire upward journey so beautifully.


On this note, I’d like to say, “Mehnat ka phal hamesha Nidhal hota hai!”


(The writer is a law student based in Mumbai.)

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